How To Make Lemonade
by evenflo78
Summary: Life for single Mom, Sookie Stackhouse, has never been easy, and when her daughter, Pam, starts school things are even more difficult. Enter Eric Northman, kindergarten teacher, who helps Sookie learn how to move forward. All Human.


**Title: How To Make Lemonade**

**Fandom: Sookie Stackhouse/Southern Vampire Mysteries**

**Written for Fandom Fights the Floods**

**Pairing: Eric & Sookie. **

**Rated: M for adult content and mild language.**

**Beta'd/Pre-read by Krismom and EtheHunter**

**Summary: Life for single mom, Sookie Stackhouse, hasn't always been easy, and when her daughter, Pam, starts school, things are even harder. Sometimes help comes in strange packages. This time, it's in the unexpected Eric Northman, Pam's teacher, that Sookie learns how to move forward.**

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Sometimes life just gives you lemons. You may not know the recipe, know how much sugar or water to add, but you keep trying until you get it right. Lemonade, when made wrong can be like drinking sulfuric acid. But, when made right, it can refresh and cool you, and quench a thirst that comes from deep inside.

So when life gives you lemons, there ain't much else to do but make lemonade. My Gran taught me that long before I could even tie my shoes, and I still remember it long after she earned her wings and started singing with the angels above.

It took me years to realize there was actually meaning behind those words. I often though it was just like some of the other nonsense that she spouted off when I asked a silly question or did something to get in trouble.

"_Sookie, never wear white after labor day._" or "_Two plus two won't ever equal five, but sometimes one plus one can equal eternity._"

Much of it never made sense to me, a lot of it still doesn't. But I learned to listen to her advice, store it away for later, in hopes that it'd come in handy one day.

Losing our parents at such a young age, Jason and I didn't have it as easy as other kids growing up. Of course we didn't have it near as hard as a lot of others either. So you won't hear no complaints out of me. We did have our Gran, and she did her best to teach us manners and keep food in our bellies and decent clothes on our backs.

Jason? Well, he was always the social little bunny. He'd made friends about as easily as the ocean made waves. It was just something that came naturally to him. First string quarterback, captain of the football _and_ baseball teams, he never lacked for female companionship either.

Me? I was another story all together. Awkward, and socially handicapped, I often sat and read quietly by myself in the corner of a room rather than playing with the other kids. Other kids thought I was weird, thought my smile was just a little too big, and my laugh was just a little too loud. I tried not to let it bother me too much. Kids could be mean if you let them.

So when High School came around, and the boys started showing a little interest in me, I guess I didn't much know what to do about that or how to handle it. Suddenly, I had all this attention, and I was still the same old awkward and big-mouthed laughing me.

Mike was my first boyfriend. He was gorgeous, the captain of the football team since Jason had graduated, blond hair, blue eyes. A body of a seventeen year old that I, at a younger sixteen, just thought was all man and sculpted by the gods.

We dated and went to dances and school functions, holding hands and hanging all over each other like young kids do. He met my Gran and ate dinner with us once a week. We kissed and got hot and heavy in the back seat of his beat up mustang that had about six too many owners and four too many accidents. We did what all other teenagers did in High School.

When prom came along, it seemed all too natural to take that next step. Before I fully knew what I was doing, we were taking off our clothes in my neighbor Bill Compton's basement. After two years, I'd ran out of excuses to not do it at that point.

Mike had been drinking beer, it was what all the kids did those days. Nowadays too, no doubt. And I'd had enough wine coolers to make my head feel fuzzy and my world spin. Though, even now, I never blamed it all on the alcohol. Lame excuse, that one.

One thing led to another, ultimately ending in my pain and blood, while Mike sat above me in a daze. My first time hadn't been anything like I'd imagined it to be. But then again, when was that ever the case for a woman? It wasn't awful, it just wasn't special either.

It was just after graduation that I found out I was pregnant. Mike had gotten a football scholarship to California. I was planning to go to LSU even though it would be a million states away from where he was going. My plans changed. Mike's didn't. He went on to California, and I stayed home and grew a life in my womb. We never really talked much after that.

I'd just been handed a lemon in life and well, when Pamela was born six months later, I didn't have much choice but to make my own kind of lemonade. College was left on the back burner while I worked my tail-end off in order to make ends meet.

Gran had never made it seem hard at all, but I learned quickly that making lemonade was not, in fact, as easy as making pie. And making pie is a lot harder than the old saying actually implies, to tell the truth of it.

And raising a child while trying to keep a roof over your head, food on your table, and shoes on your feet, proved even more difficult than making pie or lemonade could even ever _think_ of being. It was sink or swim for a while, but somehow we always managed to keep our heads above water.

Pamela, Pam for short since she's taken to biting if you call her Pammie as of late, got a little over a year with her great grandmother before life gave me another handful of lemons in the form of Gran's stroke. Gran survived the first one, and I took care of her, as best I could. But when the second one came, less than a year later, well, there just wasn't much life left in her to fight back.

We made it work though, Pam and I. I worked days at the library during the week while Pam went to a daycare just across the street. And three nights a week, as well as Saturday and Sunday's, I worked at Merlotte's Bar and Grille. Mrs. Bellefleur, crazy old loon that she is, was Gran's best friend, and kept Pam while I waited tables.

Our house was old, had been in the family as long as I could remember, and it took a lot of upkeep to make sure it kept on its legs. Pipes busted, wires shorted, all sorts of things I hadn't realized cost so much were suddenly on my day-to-day. We did good though, and there was always love in our house, even when the pantries seemed a little low.

I'd asked Sam, my boss at the restaurant, for the weekend before Pam started kindergarten off in order to stay home with her. I wanted to spend some quality time with my baby girl, and also give Mrs. Bellefleur a break from the tropical storm that was my daughter.

Pam could be a handful; okay, she could be more like ten-big-burly-arm fulls. I loved her, and in my eyes, she could do no wrong. But by the time Monday came around, I was so ready for school to start I thought it'd be easy as pie to drop her off and go about my day. I'd always heard the first day was the hardest, but I was certain it'd be easy.

Turns out, I was right. Since pie ain't all that easy to make, mind you.

She'd walked in just like she was a grown woman, and the entire school belonged to her. Not that I'd expected anything less. Her hair was left down, since she wouldn't let me put it in those adorable pig-tails I loved so much, and her uniform was pristine and perfectly pressed, also at her request.

Pam had her backpack over both shoulders, silver and pink, without any girly cartoon character on it since she thought those were for babies. It was like looking into a mirror of the past, only with a lot of Mike's personality and sass in those confident five-year-old sized strides she took.

It was moments like those that made me miss my Gran all the more. Or wish that Pam had a father figure in her life. Someone besides just me. There was no telling how many mistakes I was liable to make when it came to her. I was really good at making mistakes. I could no doubt make millions with my ability to screw up.

I sat in the parking lot, crying, until I was late enough for work that they called to check up on me. She was growing up way too fast. Had been since she was born. I hadn't known it would take me five years to realize she wasn't going to be a baby forever. Pam wasn't a baby anymore, she was already a big girl. And I was nowhere near ready for it.

Sniffling and drying my eyes, I made my way to the library almost two hours after school had started.

By the time Friday rolled around, it had gotten easier to watch her walk into the small brick school. Instead of tears there was just a fond remembrance of days of old with dirty diapers and no backtalk. It seemed she was doing just fine without her Momma. And though it was hard to imagine a day she wouldn't need me, there was also some relief as well. I thought maybe I wasn't doing as horrible a job as I thought I had.

Imagine my shock when my phone rang while I was putting away a stack of romance novels, the caller ID indicating it was the school. I answered in a panic, books forgotten and scattered in the floor, my voice nothing but a squeak. "Hello, yes. What's wrong?" I'd automatically assumed the worst.

"_Ms. Stackhouse?_" A deep male voice, sounding cool and calm, on the other end did nothing to appease my mind. Worry was a fickle thing.

"Yes, this is she. What's wrong?" I repeated. I was already going for my purse and keys, preparing to take flight back toward the school. Speed limits be damned.

"_Nothing is wrong, ma'am. Calm down._" Apparently my panic was obvious to him as well. "_This is Eric Northman from Bon Temps Elementary._"

I recognized the name instantly. It was Pam's teacher. She'd said he was as tall as an oak tree, and talked like The Terminator. "Yes, okay." I breathed, feeling calmed – a little. "Can I do something for you? Did I forget her lunch money or something?"

My mind was tracing through everything and anything I could imagine that would warrant a call from her teacher. Had I done something wrong? Likely.

"_No. No. Nothing like that_," I could hear a smile in his voice. He sounded nothing like The Terminator to me. He sounded kind. "_I was just hoping I could meet with you this afternoon when you come to get Pamela?_"

"Yeah, okay," I responded hesitantly. "Did she bite somebody for calling her Pammie? 'Cause I told her not..."

"_No ma'am. Pam is a wonderful girl, very bright and perceptive for her age. I just like to keep an open door with all of my students' parents and wanted to introduce myself_."

"Oh," I said dumbly. That was unexpected, and really nice.

Maybe I'd forgotten that I should have wanted to do that on my own. God, why didn't parenting come with a handbook? I really was no good at it. A mother should want to meet the person that's responsible for teaching her child. _Stupid._

Shaking off thoughts of how many times I had, and how many other ways I undoubtedly would, fail as a mother, I went back to Mr. Northman. "What time should I be there?"

"_Can you be here about four? I should be finished with bus duty about then. If that's okay with you?_"

"Okay. That's fine. I'll see you then."

By the time four o'clock rolled around, my lip was raw from worrying it, and my nails were a mess. Pam was sitting on the end of the slide as if she'd just slid down and decided to hang out for a minute. She ran over to me, smiling brightly when I approached.

"All the parents are getting in trouble with Schwarzenegger," she said, her slight lisp slurring her_ 'R's'_. "Is today your day, Mommy? 'Cause you didn't do nothing wrong."

I smiled at her fierce scowl and grabbed her outstretched hand. "No, baby girl. I just wanted to introduce myself. Where's your teacher?"

Pam squinted her eyes, some genetic tick she'd gotten from her dad, and looked off back towards the playground. "There he is." I followed her extended arm and tiny pointed finger to see a man walking towards us, smiling.

"Oh my," I said before I could stop myself. "_That's_ your teacher?"

"Yes, and he gave us homework today," she sneered the words as if it offended her he would do such a thing. "Told you he was a giant," she whispered in that way only a five-year old does.

More than a giant. _Wowza! _The man was hot. Daytime TV hot. With a capital – Oh. My. God – hot. And I never, ever, thought that about people. I had the strange urge to tug on my collar and fan myself while I swooned all over the place. _Damn. _

Well over six feet, his blue eyes were bright and his small smile was kind as he approached us with slow but confident steps. His hair was blond, highlighted by the sun, and his features were sharp and handsome. I'd almost forgotten what my imagination could do until it began peeling away at Mr. Northman's white button down shirt and gray slacks, revealing nothing short of perfectly sculpted man and muscle.

I swallowed hard and picked my jaw up off the ground.

Gary Wright's Dream Weaver played on a loop in my mind as he walked over in slow motion. I was such a nerd.

I nervously combed back a few stray hairs as he extended his large hand out for me to take. "Ms. Stackhouse, Eric Northman, it's a pleasure to meet you."

I had to choke back my perfectly accented southern-belle response that said _'the pleasure is all mine'_ with a not-so-lady-like cough. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Northman."

His palm was a little sweaty from having been in his pocket as he strolled over, but I appreciated the firm shake he gave me and nearly panted at the way his long fingers wrapped all the way around my hand. My, oh my, all the things he could do with those things...

Shaking my head slightly to clear it of thoughts I had no right to think, not to mention should be ashamed of, I looked down at Pam as she sighed heavily, obviously bored.

Mr. Northman chuckled and released my hand. "Please, call me Eric. Pam," he bent down to her level, and she looked up from her fingernails to him. "Why don't you go play on the swings. I won't keep your mother too long."

Without a word, she ran off, leaving me to drool over her teacher in private. What the hell was wrong with me? It's not like I'd never seen a good looking man before. Certainly wasn't like I hadn't ever had impure thoughts about one. Problem was, it'd been a long, _long_ time since I'd felt the touch of one, and damn me if I didn't want Eric Northman to be the one to break my celibate streak.

Eric stood, smiling as he turned back to face me. One arm went behind his back as the other swept out in front of him, indicating a bench where we could sit. "Shall we?"

Oh, dear God in heaven, he was a gentleman.

I gave him a nervous smile as I took a seat as close to the arm of the bench as I could. Eric sat to the other extreme, mirroring my pose as we faced each other silently.

"So," I started, not missing the way my stomach was fluttering around like it was full of jumping beans. Estrogen meet Testosterone. "She's not biting then?" I asked with a chuckle, hardly knowing what to say but needing to break the awkward silence.

"No," Eric laughed, the sound making me even more tense despite his response relaxing me. "Although, there was one little boy that called her Pammie. She threatened to take him out to the playground and make him pick his own switch."

I cringed, laughing nervously. "I don't beat her, you know?" I defended quickly. "But my Gran said that to me, and well, it's just a hard habit to break."

"I didn't think you did. Never even crossed my mind," Eric assured me, placing his warm palm over my hand. Jesus, how that one simple touch set me on fire. "You look too sweet to do something like that."

My face heated and flared a brilliant red at his words. "I'm hardly sweet," I said with an uncharacteristic flirty smile. "She can drive a sane man mad sometimes, and believe me, I can punish with the best of them, but I'd never abuse her."

"Then you're a good Mom," he said softly as he pulled his hand back. Eric looked over his shoulder to where Pam was playing on the swings, a small smile played on the edges of his lips. "I can imagine she can be quite the handful. Her vocabulary is astonishing."

"You've no idea," I said with a groan, relaxing back into the bench. "She was three I think when she came and asked me something – I don't remember what – but I answered her. She responded with a big grunt and put her hands on her hips: 'It's a rhetorical question, Mom, you're not supposed to answer it.' I about died. But we read together a lot. And my Gran, before she passed, did even more so."

His smile was genuine as I finished, and he laughed lightly. His eyes glowed when he laughed. It was breathtaking. "And her dad?" he pressed, looking curious, slightly anxious, and a lot nervous, like maybe he might have been crossing a line by asking.

I'd long since burned that bridge. "Nah, he's not around. Last I heard he was still in California. I'll never keep him hidden from her, but I'm not going to hunt him down and force him to be something he doesn't wanna be. We've done fine for ourselves this far."

"Yes, you have," he agreed softly. I appreciated it and the slight nod he gave me in recognition. "Good for you."

We fell into an easy conversation after that, talking about everything and nothing much at all. It was strange how quickly and how comfortably natural it felt to talk to him. Some of it school and Pam related, some of it not.

Before I realized it, the sun was sitting low in the sky and a little over an hour had passed. Pam was running up to us, her blonde hair and skirt flapping out behind her. "Momma, I'm hungry, are you not done yet?"

"Goodness, I'm sorry baby," I said noting the time and standing. "I shouldn't have kept you so long," I said to Eric. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"Not at all," Eric said easily, standing as well and walking as we did towards my car. "It's been nice chatting with you."

"Really, I'm so sorry for keeping you." I bit my lip, my curiosity having gotten the better of me. "Your girlfriend's probably worried about you by now."

I'd looked, of course, and noticed the lack of ring on his finger. But a man that good looking just had to have someone. There was just no way he was single. It wasn't my luck that I'd meet a man I could have a good conversation with that didn't cringe at the fact I had a daughter and he not be attached in some way.

"No. No one waiting for me at home. Except for Max, my lab, and he'll eat dinner when I do. Or my shoes, come to think of it. Maybe I should get home," he said with a teasing wink and a laugh.

Thank the lord in heaven above. I giggled happily, before biting my lip again. I was such a girl sometimes. "Well, still, I should let you get home. It was really nice to meet you."

"Here, let me see your phone," I handed it to him, not thinking for a minute he was going to program his number into it. But that's exactly what he did. "Call me sometime. You know, for whatever." Did he just blush? A hand raked through his shaggy hair as he held out my phone, one number heavier. "Or if you want to check up on Pam's progress, you know?"

Holy hell, he was even more adorable when he was flustered.

"I will," I replied softly, my fingers brushing up against his as I retrieved my phone. "Goodnight, Eric."

"Goodnight, Ms. Stackhouse."

Pam was already in the car, buckled in no doubt, as I stood in the door of my car probably looking foolish and eager. But I could hardly help it. I'd rarely had an infatuation, and I had no clue how to act. I just did what came naturally, or rather awkwardly.

"Sookie. Please, call me Sookie," I urged as he backed away.

"Sookie," he agreed, making my name sound like a kiss.

Okay, it was really time for me to get out of there. Before I did something really stupid like got down on one knee and begged the man to say my name until I saw stars from it. If an orgasm had a voice it would have purred just like Eric's.

I waved as he started to fade, finally stumbling into my car dreamily. It was only habit that closed the door behind me and started the car.

"You like my teacher, don't you, momma?" Pam asked from the backseat.

I cleared my throat, trying to wipe the goofy grin from my face. Failing miserably, I'm sure. "He was nice, baby."

"You look like you want to kiss him like they do on TV," she giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

"What?" I asked astonished, but unable to deny it, and unable to hold back a chuckle of my own. "What have you been watching, young lady?"

"Puh-lease, momma, people kiss all the time on TV. Even those silly cartoons." She was right, of course, and I relaxed a little. Pam cackled before she started singing and swaying in the back seat. "Momma and The Terminator, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

I wasn't going to lie to her by saying that I didn't. So I kept quiet, laughing at her silly song as we made our way home. Besides, he was Pam's teacher, to even think about having anything with him was probably a bad idea. Best to let silly dreams like those lie at rest and think nothing more of them.

Easy as pie.

I'd have friendly chats with him every day when I picked Pam up from school. Friday's he was on bus duty, but we'd always wave and smile at each other. One day I parked in front of the school, intending on picking Pam up, but what I saw gave me serious pause.

Sitting just out front where Eric and I so often chatted, was Pam and Eric. He was reading to her. I totally had an _awwww_ moment, and my heart definitely gave an extra pitter-patter. But what made me gape the most was the tiny black-rimmed glasses that set on the edge of Eric's nose.

Holy hell, when did glasses become so...sexy?

I practically fell out of the car as I hurried over to them. He was only helping when Pam had trouble with words, and again with the awe-struck moment. I thought I'd fallen in love.

He looked up and smiled as I approached. The sight of his baby blue eyes peering at me from over the top of his glasses made me stumble over the curb. I was such a clutz.

Eric stood quickly, grabbing me by the elbow as he righted me. My breath caught in my lungs, freezing the moment like the pause button on a VCR, as I struggled to stand on legs made of play-doh.

"I didn't know you had glasses," I said dumbly as I stepped back.

Eric shrugged, looking like he wanted to blush at my obvious scrutiny. If only he knew t was the good kind. "Yeah, but they're just for reading."

He reached to take them off, and I seized his hand. The contrasting smooth and roughness of his skin made my stomach flip. "I like them. You look cute," I said, blushing the color of a cherry tomato.

I think Eric made it a point to be wearing his glasses when I came to pick up Pam in the afternoons. It was subliminal torture for him to appeal to me in such a strange way. Eric made geek damn sexy. Not that I was complaining or anything.

I'd told him one afternoon I worked weekends at Merlotte's, and a couple of weeks later he came in to have lunch. It was a little silly that I kind of looked forward to our Sunday afternoon dates. Or the closest I'd come to having a date in over five years at least.

While he ate his burger and fries, we'd catch up on what we'd each been up to since we last spoke on the Thursday before. It was one of my favorite days of the week.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked since it'd already crept up on me and was a week away. I was looking forward to the day off even if I was going to spend a lot of my time cooking, and then cleaning up from said cooking.

"Nothing. I suppose," Eric replied, taking a huge bite out of his burger and avoiding my eyes.

"Where's your family? Are they not close enough to visit?"

No one should ever spend a Holiday alone. Gran had told me that on more than one occasion when she'd invited a friend or someone from the church over. I knew Eric hadn't known his dad, we'd talked about that on several occasions since Pam was in a similar situation. But he rarely talked about his mother.

"No. Mom passed last year, just before I moved here. It's just me left."

"I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose someone," I whispered, sincerely aching for his loss. "What happened? If you don't mind my asking?"

"No, it's okay. Her mind was gone long before her body started giving out. Alzheimer's can do that to a person, no matter their strength. As hard as it was to let her go, it was even harder to watch her suffer. I miss her, but I know she's in a better place."

I returned his sad smile with one of my own. "Well, I'm not going to let you sit at home all by yourself on Thanksgiving, eating lord knows what. Cold Spam out of the can?" Eric chuckled, and I shook my head, knowing that was probably his plan. "You'll come have dinner with Pam and me. Six o'clock?"

When Eric agreed, I'd been excited. But come Thanksgiving afternoon, an hour or so before Eric was supposed to show up, I was a big bundle of nerves. It wasn't a date. I knew it, had told myself that a million and one times. But it really felt like one.

I had my favorite red sweater on with a nice pair of dark wash jeans. I'd spent a little extra time on my hair that morning, making sure the curls fell just right. It'd certainly felt like a date I was getting ready for. Even more so, since every time I passed a mirror, I had to check my reflection.

Pam was a hurricane through the house, under my feet, on the table. Her toys and books were tossed about the house faster than I could keep up with the mess. Finally, I just gave up. Eric would just have to forgive that my house looked like a Toys-R-Us exploded in it.

A knock rattled the door when I was in the middle of making the roux for the gravy. Of course, Eric would be early.

"Pam, baby, do you mind letting Mr. Northman in?"

I heard the click-clack of the new pink _heels_ she'd insisted on wearing sounding on the floor as she made her way to the front door to let in our guest. The door squeaked when it opened, something it did no matter how much I drowned the thing in WD-40, and I heard Eric's deep voice as he greeted Pam.

"Momma," Pam shouted as she stormed to into the kitchen "Mr. Northman has a red shirt just like yours."

I smiled at her excited expression, her cheeks were bright red from running all over and up and down the stairs. "I can see that," I finally said as Eric entered the kitchen, looking very, very handsome in his bright red shirt and faded blue jeans. "Did you take his jacket, like a good hostess?" I asked Pam.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, her elbows stuck out at the awkward angle. "Of course I did, momma."

"Good girl. Go wash your hands, sweetie. Dinner's just about ready. Okay?"

Pam did a perfect curtsey, courtesy of the new dance classes she'd talked me into letting her take (as if I could deny her anything) and left Eric and I alone.

He extended his hands, nervously holding out a bottle of wine. I took it from him, smiling brightly. "You didn't have to do that," I said quickly, surprised and impressed that he'd thought to bring something. I eyed the label, salivating. "However, pinot noir is my very, very favorite, and I will drink it happily."

Eric chuckled, shrugging. "Mom would have beat me raw if I came over empty handed."

I chuckled, relating completely. Gran would have rolled over in her grave. "Well, just for that, I'll share with you."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Sookie," Eric said as an after thought. "Anything I can do to help?" he nodded around the kitchen and all my many dishes and casseroles scattered about.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, as well. You can help me get it all on the table," I said with a chuckle. "I certainly hope you brought your appetite."

"I'm starving," he said while rubbing his stomach hungrily. My eyes seemed to follow the action of their own accord. "Smells great."

He grabbed two potholders and an armload of green beans and sliced ham while I followed with the dressing.

"Good thing," I teased. "It's branded in my DNA to cook enough food for a small army. It's taken me forever to figure out how to cook dinner just for two. I don't think it's even possible to cook a Holiday dinner for less than twelve. At least not with my recipes."

"Well, given how good everything looks, I'd be more than happy to take some of the leftovers off your hands," he laughed and winked.

Pam came in while Eric and I were chatting and carting all the food to the table. She sat in her chair with her napkin in her lap, and those eyes that picked up way too much following us as we worked.

Once everything was set, we all took our seats. Eric sat at the head of the table, on my insistence, Pam on his right and me on his left. It felt good. Really, _really_ good. Like a real family. It'd been a long time.

Pam reached out and took Eric's hand, shocking him slightly, and I did the same, taking both Eric and Pam's hand across the table. I smiled to myself at the feel of his warm palm over mine as Pam blessed the food, almost sad to let go when she finished.

It was times like that, when we touched, that made it hard to remember he was my daughters teacher and nothing could ever come of our relationship besides friendship. Touching him, even if only a friendly pat on the shoulder, or a completely platonic caress, seemed completely natural and necessary to me. The more I was around him, the more I needed to touch him.

I had to give it to him, Eric seemed to make it a goal to eat as much of the food I'd cooked as he could. The three of us made an even bigger dent in our feast than I'd expected. Despite my nerves and what they did to my stomach, I ate more than my fair share as well.

"Why don't you two go find something to watch on the TV. I'll get the food put up," I suggested when I was certain I'd burst if I swallowed another bite.

"I can help you with the dishes," Eric offered, reaching to gather up his plate.

I shook my head. "Leave it. I'll take care of it after I get her in the bed. Go. Sit. Find some football or something," I laughed. "See how long it takes Pam to claw your eyes out and steal the remote."

He laughed. "If you're sure?"

I nodded and shooed him from the kitchen before turning to wrap and put away the food. I fixed Eric two big plates of leftovers, making sure to give him a huge portion of the cheesy potato casserole he seemed in love with, and put the rest away.

Pam's voice carried from the living room, nearly making me drop the pan of turkey. "Are you and my mom dating?"

I heard Eric choke and then try to cover it with a laugh that ended in a coughing fit.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Well, she likes you, and you like her. That's what people do when they date," I could hear the confidence in her tone. Like if _she_ knew this then _everyone_ else should too.

Eric snickered. "I suppose you're right."

"So you're dating momma then?"

"Well," Eric paused and I craned my neck, struggling to hear. Forget Gran and her voice in my subconscious telling me eavesdropping is bad. "We're definitely friends." My heart skipped a beat as I held my breath. "But I'll tell you a secret."

I heard Pam's responding squeal and the rustling of fabric, and I looked around the corner just in time to see him whisper something in her ear. Damn it, I cursed mentally. Just call me a cat, 'cause my curiosity that night just about killed me.

Eric stuck around while I bathed Pam and got her tucked into the bed. He was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee when I came back downstairs, intending to get the dishes washed so I could put my feet up for a while.

"I've got a couple of plates in the fridge for you to take home with you," I told him.

"You're too good to me," he whispered, stacking dishes beside the sink as I ran the water. "Coffee?"

"A lot of sugar and a little cream, please," I begged as I gave him a grateful look.

Eric passed me a cup after he'd doctored it. Perfect. I sighed and set it to the side before continuing to wash the silverware and glasses.

"At least let me rinse and dry," Eric fussed when I kept trying to chase him back. "It's the least I can do. Mom made me wash dishes from the time I could walk. She firmly believed that the cook should never have to clean up."

"Well, I don't always have that luxury," I teased. "Fine," I acquiesced when he gave me an irresistible pouty face. "Just don't laugh at the way I scrub my casseroles." I had the embarrassing tendency to stick out my tongue while I was concentrating. It may have been silly, but I was a little self-conscious around Eric.

Eric held his hands up in surrender, crossing one over his chest and giving a slight bow. I nearly pee'd my pants laughing at his dramatics. "I could never laugh at the lady of the house."

"Your mom had her hands full with you, no doubt. I bet you gave her all kinds of trouble," I teased, grinning over my shoulder at him, and nudging him with my elbow.

Seriously, there should be some sort of laws written against the way and obsessive amount I flirted with Eric Northman. But then again, I'd probably end up spending time in jail for it. It was just so, _so_ tempting.

"Me?" he gasped, feigning his offense. "I would never."

I laughed. "Yeah. Uh-huh." I flicked my fingers at him, splashing him with bubbles before we settled down and worked silently, both of us wearing silly smiles.

Again with my curiosity, I just couldn't seem to help myself from asking my next question. Besides, it was something I'd been wondering since I met him. "So, if you don't mind my asking, what in the world made you decide to be a kindergarten teacher?"

"What are you saying, Sookie? Don't I look like a kindergarten teacher?" He stepped back, straightening his collar and smoothing down his shirt and pants. He looked like a model or something. So unbelievably good-looking. Just take off the shirt and the pants and tack CK over his crotch. So not helping.

I snickered, biting my lip and shaking my head. "Not really, no. You're too... pretty," I half whispered the last word, looking away and searching for the image of Jesus in my soap bubbles.

It happened, right? People saw signs all the time. How farfetched was it for me to hope that Eric was sent to me from heaven above, courtesy of my Gran? She'd always been rather popular on earth, it wasn't too hard to believe she would quickly be able to pull some strings in heaven as well.

What was I saying? Or yeah, I'm a total loon.

"Pretty?" Eric scoffed as if it were a dirty word. "I'm not pretty. I'm very manly. A very manly man." He puffed his chest out, beating his fist over his heart like some sort of caveman.

I couldn't help it. I totally lost it. I'm talking about, gut-busting, tears-in-my-eyes, laughing at the poor guy. Eric took it in stride though, simply raising an eyebrow at my outburst.

"Yes, Eric. You are very manly," I choked out as I caught my breath. His eyes were shining with amusement, glowing and setting me on fire. "You're all man," I whispered, looking away.

And I was all woman and very aware of it. The tension was alive, growing and swirling around us. I was grateful when Eric spoke again, breaking it, even if for only a moment.

"My mom was a teacher," he started, taking a plate from my hand and dipping it into the rinse. "And her mom before her. At first, my mom taught college kids, which was what I wanted to do. But when I was about a twelve, I guess, she started with elementary kids."

"Probably so she could be home more with you," I guessed.

"Probably," he agreed. "One day, during my senior year in college, she called me up and asked me if I still wanted to teach at the college level. I told her I did. I couldn't imagine I'd be any good with little kids. I had absolutely no experience with kids, and even less patience."

"Kids certainly know how to wear it down, that's for sure," I added with a laugh.

Eric nodded before continuing. "She said something that made me rethink things. She said that teaching was one of the most important jobs in the world. She told me her respect for the position grew to a whole new level during her years teaching elementary school. More so than it ever had teaching college."

He paused, looking thoughtfully out the window as he dried the casserole dish I'd passed him. He looked so young then, lost in thoughts about his mom, and I almost felt like I was intruding on some sort of private moment they had.

"Anyway," he continued after a minute. "She said that there's only so much teaching you can do to a grown child, only so much they're willing to listen to and learn. But a child, a young, growing child, can be molded, and they have an infinite capacity to learn.

"To be able to touch a child while they're at such an amazing developmental level makes you feel like you've made an impact in the world. Like you've left your mark somewhere. And well," he smiled at me. "Here I am."

"Your mom sounds amazing," I said softly, giving his arm a slight caress while trying not to cry. "That's sound like something my Gran would have said. That woman was full of wisdom and equally full of ridiculousness," I chuckled. "I can't tell you the number of times that she told me that, while she may run out of patience, she'd never dare run out of hugs." I smiled up at him. "'And cookies,' she'd always add on at the end and pinch my cheeks."

"I bet they're having a time up there," he said with a smile as he pointed to the ceiling.

I chuckled. "She used to tell me 'never hit in anger,' usually this was because my brother did something to make me mad. Then she'd tell me to eat my peas. We almost always had peas," I added, laughing.

"Your Gran sounds pretty amazing herself," Eric whispered, leaning down to nudge me with his shoulder.

"She was. She was like my mother even though she was my grandmother. But most importantly, she was my best friend." I sighed, fighting back the tears at the memory of her. "I miss her every day."

"Hey," Eric said softly, turning me to face him and placing a warm, slightly damp, palm on my face. "Don't cry, Sookie. I imagine you make her proud every day with your strength."

I nodded, taking his kind words to heart and allowing my tears to dry. I hadn't known how much I needed to hear those words until Eric said them to me. It couldn't have meant more to me than if Gran had said them herself.

Placing my hand on his arm, I stepped close and put my other hand on his cheek. "Thank you, Eric." Before I could analyze my actions too much, I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his cheek. The light stubble there tickled my lips.

I should have known it wouldn't be enough, that the smell and feel of him so close to me would be overwhelming. I just wanted to taste him, the ache for it increased beyond my resistance. All I had to do was tilt my head to the side. Just a little. Easy as pie.

It was too much. Too compelling when his gasped breath fanned over my cheek, when his shaky hand grasped my shoulder, all was lost. I was lost. There was no breath left in my lungs as I brushed my lips against Eric's. Just a tiny whisper as I turned my head, which of course was only the beginning.

So soft, his lips were so soft and welcoming. Like coming home. I moved my lips over his once more, my heart in my throat. Eric's response was only a moment later, and it wiped coherent thought from my mind.

My lips welcomed his tongue, parting on instinct and desire as Eric swept in and stole my breath. The room spun around us, His hands dug into my sweater, my jeans, wherever they could find purchase, while mine did the same. Air was no longer a necessity, Eric's mouth held everything I could ever need.

My blood raced like lava through my veins. I wanted him like a drug, needed him, to devour him, feel him, and wrap myself around him. The crippling desire tearing through me, quickly sobered me and I pulled away from him, staggering back into the sink, hoping it would keep me upright.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry," I croaked, covering my mouth with my trembling fingers. "What am I doing? I'm sorry. So sorry. I shouldn't have done that," I rambled, shaking my head, hoping that if I did it enough it would bring me out of my haze.

"Sookie, please," Eric said quietly as he stepped toward me. With my back already against the counter, I was trapped, and he smelled so damn good. He cupped my cheek in his palm. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that? How many times I've imagined it? Don't stop. Please, don't ever stop."

His last words were a whisper against my lips as his head dipped down to kiss me once more. So good. So unbelievable. His tongue felt like heaven, and his lips were just as fierce and demanding as they were soft. I could kiss him forever. Never, ever tiring of them.

"No. No, Eric," I insisted, twisting away from him and stumbling back towards the living room. "This is wrong. You're Pam's teacher, for heaven's sake! This... no, we shouldn't do this. I'm sorry. You should go."

Eric's mouth opened, and I feared if he said another word I'd leap straight into his arms and never let him leave. But he kept quiet, offering me a small nod as he grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door.

"Sookie?" he started, turning back to me.

"Don't say anything. Friends, Eric. That's all we need to be. Friends." I shoved his leftovers into his hands and urged him out the door.

The word had never felt so wrong before. How could having a friend ever be a bad thing? And yet, I knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was wrong for us. Sure, we could be friends, but there would always be that something more. More had only proved to get me in trouble, and well, I'd had enough of that in my life, I wasn't exactly ready to invite more in.

I still talked and visited with him after school and on Sunday's when he came in to have his late lunch. We were friendly, and I had to commend him for trying. He seemed to be doing a hell of a lot better job than I was at keeping his hands to himself.

Anytime he was within an arms length of me, I stepped closer, needing to feel the heat from his body and have his scent buried so deep in my nose it was all I could smell. Our fingers would brush, but nothing more. We were determined. That worked, for a little while.

As Gran had once said, I hadn't ever seen a gator pretend like it was anything other than what it was. And well, in a lot of ways, Eric and I acting as friends, was exactly what we were doing. Pretending.

But when Christmas came along, and I thought of him sitting around his house all alone, well, there was just no way in hell I would let that happen. So, I invited him over, determined and confident that things wouldn't get out of hand as they had on Thanksgiving. I'd been doing good, after all. Gran hadn't called me stubborn as a mule for nothing.

Of course, living in Louisiana where winters are relatively mild, we hadn't expected it to come up a big snow and ice storm either.

"Momma, you should let The Terminator stay here. It's not safe for him to drive on ice, Momma."

Pam, always too smart for her britches. "We can't have Mr. Northman getting into an accident, now can we?" I kissed the top of her head, my eyes locked with Eric's sitting in the recliner across from us.

He was again wearing those damn glasses that did strange things to my lady parts. Damn him for being so good looking.

"I've never played in the snow," Pam said, thrilled and in awe of the white fluff falling from the sky. "I want to make a snowman. Can we make a snowman tomorrow? Will you help us make a snowman, Mr. Northman?"

I smiled, laughing lightly at her excitement. My insides were threatening to flip me upside down and backwards at the thought of Eric sleeping in my home. For him to be so close, so _right there_, and me not be able to act on my desperate need for him. Well, let's just say, a woman should never know that kind of torture. I think I knew it was beyond even _my_ level of self-control.

"You know," Eric started, catching Pam as she started crossing the room and pulling her into his lap. "I'm pretty good at making snowmen. I've had lots of practice."

"You are?" Pam's eyes lit up at the idea of it.

"Mmmhmm," he hummed in agreement. "I wouldn't mind teaching you. But it's up to your momma."

"Can he stay, Momma? Please? Can he stay?" she asked, her blue eyes big and bright, pleading.

Like I've said before, I could never deny her anything. "Of course he can. I'll even let you wake him up bright and early to get started on those snowmen. Okay? Now, it's time for bed. Go get your jammies on."

She squealed, not arguing a bit as she made her way upstairs. I didn't even have to negotiate the number of bedtime stories I had to read before she went to sleep. One was enough since she wanted to hurry and go to sleep so it could be tomorrow. Child logic, gotta love it.

Eric was sitting with his head between his legs when I came back down from tucking Pam in. I spotted his glasses on the coffee table as he rubbed at his temples. I grabbed a blanket, sheets, and a pillow out of the hall closet before making my way over to him. God, how I ached just to reach out and touch him. Kiss him. Hold him. It was unyielding. How I'd ever make it through the night, I hadn't a clue.

"Sookie?" Eric said softly, his eyes pleading up into mine and burning with the same desires I felt. He didn't have to say it for me to know it. I felt it in my bones. "Why do we do this? Why? I don't understand. Please explain it to me."

I sighed, sitting heavily on the couch. "You know why. You're Pam's teacher, Eric. It's just not right. It's unethical or something." I had to admit, my reasons were sounding more and more idiotic to me the more I tried to use them. But teaching an old dog new tricks ain't ever easy.

"Bull. That's bull, Sookie, and you know it. That doesn't matter. If it's so important, I'll request her to be moved to another class. Whatever it takes. I'm tired of pretending. I can't," he sighed, pulling at his hair in frustration. "I can't be this close to you and not have you in my arms."

I choked on my breath as his words came out, frozen to my spot on the couch as he stood and approached, kneeling before me. "Eric..." It was supposed to be a warning, not an invitation as it had sounded.

"No. I'm done. You know me, Sookie. You know how I feel. You have to feel it. Don't you?" His hands folded over mine as his blue eyes drowned me within their depths.

I nodded in answer to his question. "And you know I feel the same," I whispered, unable to lie.

"Then stop fighting it," Eric groaned, his hands gripping at my waist and sliding me towards him. "Stop denying this," he whispered as his lips touched mine.

Fireworks. It's the only word I know how to describe what happened next. Fireworks. All the time I'd been denying myself and holding back seemed to bubble up to the surface of my skin until I was just overflowing with my passion.

My tongue sought his, tangling hungrily, desperately and dancing until I saw stars from it. His lips never left mine long enough for me to miss them, and when they strayed they were still where they belonged. On my skin. My neck, my jaw, my ear. Heaven.

I craved more of his skin. His kiss. His everything. We clawed at each other, unable to find enough, getting as close as we could, and yet it still not being close enough.

"Come with me," I gasped, breathless and aching with the desire for him to be so deep inside me I'd never get the taste of him out. I needed to be naked with him. Man and woman, lovers, not friends. I'd pretended long enough.

Giving his hand a slight tug, Eric followed me with hooded eyes. Unable to stay away from his mouth a minute more, I attacked, pushing him blindly towards my room and atop my bed. My hands were clumsy in their haste and it took me a lot longer than it should have for me to get Eric's shirt off.

But it was heaven when I did.

His warm skin was pale with a light dusting of hair, and even more perfect than I'd imagined. My tongue tasted the lines of his muscles, circling his nipple until Eric squirmed and hissed beneath me. Apparently as eager as I, Eric reversed our positions, pinning me beneath his delicious weight, his hands rough but gentle as they traced my curves.

I hardly remember how the clothes came off, but I could never forget what they revealed. My breast ached and I shivered as his tongue, hands and lips wreaked havoc on them. Eric's hands were deft and thorough in their exploration. He was driving me crazy with want. I ached everywhere.

Panting and desperate for more, I traced the planes of his strong body, squeezing his tight little ass before sweeping around and taking the full length of him into my hand. Hot and heavy, the tip weeped with his desire. I couldn't wait any longer.

I guided him between my legs, gasping and clenching at the slight brush of the head of him against my opening. "Sookie," Eric groaned as I took him into me.

_Oh God, yes!_

I cried out as he stretched me, filling me in more ways than physically. His hands slowed their caress, tender and almost loving as he traced my lips before settling his mouth over mine. "Oh God, Eric," I moaned, as he slid deep, moving in a slow, deliciously torturous rhythm.

A steady, deep burning built in my toes, spreading like wildfire through my entire body until I feared I'd suffocate from it. I could have died right then, in Eric's arms, his body, his smell and taste everywhere, and been a happy woman. Burning, the most blissful sensation.

"Look at me, Sookie," Eric said hoarsely, his control slipping.

Mine had long since gone.

Locking my eyes with his, I kissed his chin, his lips, tasting the sweat there as our bodies climbed ever higher and higher. "Eric," I cried, unable to keep the waves from crashing down over me.

I drowned, over and over as pleasure sent me into oblivion. Perfect. I felt Eric tense only a second before he came, and held him as close as I could get him, needing to feel his every spasm, his every pant. His back was taut when he roared.

"I'm done pretending too, Eric," I whispered in a daze, nestled in the crook of his arm and toying with the splattering of his chest hair. I wanted to count them, know them. And I wanted him to know me as intimately and completely as well.

"It would be so easy to love you, Sookie," Eric admitted, and I felt my heart swell. "If you'd just give me the chance."

Truth was, I'd fallen for him long ago.

I smiled, propping my chin on his chest. "Easy? You think loving me would be easy?"

"Of course," he said slightly defensive. His frown quickly turned upwards when he noticed my playful grin.

I settled back down next to him and kissed the spot over his heart. "I happen to think loving you would be pretty easy too."

Easy as making lemonade from lemons.

**A/N: I do hope that you enjoyed this little story. I had lots of fun writing it, that's for sure. Thanks to those of you that donated to the cause. I know a lot of money was raised. It's a blessing to be a part of such a great group of people. So willing to give when others need.**

**Take the time to drop a line if you'd like. I always love reading your comments.**

**KISSES!**


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